Who Am I? Take Two!
by VincentValentine13
Summary: Well, here's a rewrite of the chapter with Vincent and the dragon...hope you like it!
1. Chapter 1

Well, this is the first chapter with a serious make-over. I'll be doing this with the others as well. Just give me some feed-back on which version you like better. If I get more votes for the original, then I won't change them, so keep the reviews coming. Also, I'm working on another fanfic that will require OCs, so if you'r interested and have an idea for a character that you wouldn't mind letting me borrow.

Thank you to Any-More-Cheese for the great profile, and all of your support. Terra is a great character!

Thanks also to vampire-angle-of-sorrow. I may use Claudia, but then they're both great, so I don't know! Thank you so much, and keep an eye open for it.

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The rain poured down over the dark streets of Nibelheim. Between the flashes of lightning, a single figure stumbled through the streets. Its steps were shakey, and once or twice they slid on the wet stone streets. It clambered past the houses, glancing every so often into the warm windows, seeing the smiling faces of comfortable, content families. The figure let out a sad sigh before jumping at the sound of the rolling thunder. As lightning flashed again, the figure saw a santuary. There, half buried behind tall weeds and vines stood a mansion, its windows dark. As the figure drew closer, the house seemed to grow and become imposing, its windows like eyes that were looking down at the weary wanderer with disgust. Ignoring the glaring windows, the figure rushed up to the doors and pushed them open. They creaked open loudly and the figure fell onto the hard floor. Quickly rising and shutting the door behind him, it called out.

"Hello! Is anybody in here? Hello?"

No answer came but the echo of his voice as it bounced off the solid walls. The place looked abandoned, though everything seemed to be in order, with only a small amount of dust on the banisters of the stairways before him, revealed only by the lightning that shown through the windows. He shivered as he peered into the darkness, trying to see his way. Hand outstretched, he stumbled until he found the banister for the staircase and followed it up, hoping to find a place to rest, and perhaps make a fire. His hand brushed against the wall at th top of the stair, and he followed it until he reached a doorway. Another flash of lightning gave a brief glimpse at the contents of the room: two beds, a bookshelf, a desk and a small wood stove. Trembling from fear and cold, he felt his way over to the stove. Opening the hatch, he felt some old, half burned logs judging by the smell. Not thinking of how they got there, the figure spoke a command word, "Fire." Instantly, the logs started to burn, and they released a small bit of warmth into the lonely room.

Looking around, the traveler tumbled onto one of the beds, his body too exhausted to resist the call of sleep, despite the haunting felling that he was being watched.

Eric Constantine yawned as he sat up in bed. It had been a rough night, the storm making things difficult for him, but at least he was able to find shelter. His clothes were still damp, so he dug through his rucksack that had fallen on the floor for a change of clothes. Grabbing out a black t-shirt and black pants, he stepped over to a mirror that hung on the wall and looked at his reflection. It's not too bad, he thought to himself, though his long, brown hair had frizzed slightly, and his green eyes had small circles under them. Sleeping in a strange house was unnerving, though he woke up safe and sound, and it was slightly warmer then when he had fallen asleep last night.

A small flicker of movement in the mirror grabbed his attention, and he looked at the right edge of thhe glass to see a man staring back at him. Eric gasped and jerked around. How long has he been there? He thought to himself.

"Who are you?" Eric demanded, backing up against the vanity, so much so that he was almost sitting on it.

"I should ask you the same thing," the man asked. His deep, red eyes seemed to pierce Eric's, and it was all Eric could do to keep from looking away. "You are the stranger in this place, not I."

"I..I'm sorry," Eric apologized, "I needed a place to stay last night-"

"And wouldn't it have been better to just barge into the private home of another person?" the man interrupted.

"No, well, maybe," Eric stammered as the man's eyes narrowed slightly. The man stood at least a few inches taller then himself. Fine, raven black hair framed his pale face, and his mouth covered by the tall collar of his blood red cape, the ends of which were tattered and torn. On his left hand was a golden claw, whose wicked looking finger tips reflected the light of the sun. The sleeves of his black shirt went all the way to his hands, and on his right hand was a black glove. On his feet was a pair of metal shoes, who's color matched his claw. Belted on the right leg of his black pants, just above his knee, was a gun holster, partially hidden by his cape.

"Then maybe," the man said quietly, "You should leave."

"But, I don't have anywhere to go," Eric protested, "I'm alone in the world."

"That is not my problem," the man answered as he walked towards the door. His monotoned voice and empty face made it impossible for Eric to determine whether he was annoyed or not; still, he did not seem to enjoy having a guest.

"Could I at least get changed before you throw me out?"

"You may, but I want you to leave the moment you finish."

"Alright," Eric sighed, then watched as the man passed through the door and shut it behind him.

"Just who does he think he is?" Eric asked himself quietly as he changed, "I mean, does he think he's cool or something? Why, if he didn't have a gun I'd give him a good smack upside the head. You don't act so rudely to people in need."

Eric pulled on his shirt and shoes, then grabbed up his rucksack. As he opened the door and stepped into the now well-lit hallway, he glanced around for the stairway. Spotting it, he headed down the hallway, when a sudden voice made him jump.

"Before you judge me for being rude, perhaps you should look at your own manners."

Eric turned around, and there was the man, leaning easily against the wall of the hallway. "I'm sorry," Eric blushed as he realized the man had heard him.

"Try to not talk to yourself when others are around," the man said, pushing off the wall and walking towards his unexpected guest, "They may think you are strange."

"Look who's talking," Eric mumbled.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Nothing."

"Now that you're finished, I once again ask that you leave," the man reiterrated, still maintaining an unemotional tone.

"Aw, come on," Eric pleaded, "I have no where to go, and I like it here." Honestly, he didn't really like it here, because he found it rather creepy. But it was a warm place, and besides its quiet inhabitant, there didn't seem to be anyone else around.

"I repeat, that's not my problem," the man replied.

"Please," Eric asked, giving his most pathetic face and most pleading voice, "I'll do anything. I clean and cook, or not even leave my room. Please let me stay."

"First, I must say that I find it amazing that you have claimed a room in my home as your own. Second, I do not require a housekeeper, and finally, I do not have the time nor the inclination to keep an eye on you."

"You don't have to babysit me," Eric replied, sounding injured, "I am sixteen years old."

The man didn't say anything for a moment, and Eric smiled slightly, knowing his triumphant claiming of a room in the house was near.

"Very well," the man nodded, "But, if you are going to stay here, there is something that you need to see; hopefully, it will change your mind and help remove you from this house."

"Go ahead," Eric answered, "'Cause I'm not leaving, no matter what you show me."

"Very well," the man said, and started down the stairs to the front room. He turned to Eric with his plain face and looked at him. "I would ask now that you close your eyes." Eric looked strangely at the man, but he seemed adamant, so Eric slowly closed his eyes. "I only ask this because I don't want you to know where what I am going to show you is." Eric felt the man rest his hand on his shoulder, and lead him forward, then to the left, then right, then turned around, then forward. He heard a door click open, then felt himself being pushed forward through the door. Beyond the door, the air became less stuffy then the rest of the house, and it felt warmer. It also seemed to grow brighter, and his eyes flew open when he felt the man's hand let go, and heard the door close behind him.

He was standing outside of the mansion on the front step. The sound of a lock clicking on the door behind him made himi jerk around.

"You creep!" Eric shouted as he pounded on the door, "What kinda dirty trick was that!"

"The kind that gets rid of unwanted intruders," he heard from the otherside of the door. Eric slammed his fist against the door once more for good measure, then sat down on the stair in a huff. "What a jerk," he mumbled. He adjusted his pack, then started towards the crooked gates of the mansion.

A noise over to the left caught his attention. Looking over his shoulder he saw nothing, but heard the sound again; a sort of raucus laughter. The sound didn't sound like something the man would make, so Eric followed the noise. It came from a window on the side of the manor that led into the basement, and when Eric peeked in the clouded glass, he saw a whisp of something sweep past the window. The laughter came again, and Eric couldn't let this pass. Someone else was in the house, one that didn't sound like it belonged. Eric had stop him; though the true reason for the action was that he was searching for a way into the house again.

As he slipped in through the window, he dropped into a large room, with books on the shelves all around. The corners of the room were empty, looking like something had been there, with circles of dust on the wooden boards.

The laughter came again, this time in the hall, and Eric ducked behind the doorway. Ahead of him was a long hall with a spiral stair at the end. A door was in the middle of the wall off to the left, but it was closed. Again, the sounder of laughter came from the hall, and Eric walked slowly towards the stairs. The materia that were on his belt, the materia he had carried with him through all of his trveling, glowed brightly in preparation, as if it knew that a fight was coming. Eric stepped closer to the stairs, but was unaware of the shadow that had dropped down from the ceiling behind him.

A swish behind him was his only warning, and he turned around to see the end of a large pendulum about to impale him. He dove against the rock wall, the blade missing him by mere inches. As the pendulum swung back, Eric saw that sitting on top of it was a man, or what appeared to be a man. It had dark skin and blonde hair. It wore no shirt, and a pair of tight, blue pants. On its deformed, ghostly face was a look of both disappointment and glee. It smiled wickedly as it swung the huge blade around towards Eric again, this time slicing his leg slightly.

Eric looked up and saw that the chain was not that long, and that thihs would be an easy victory as long as he cast magic from a safe distance.

Feeling the rushing energy of the materia, Eric spoke the words for the spell, then released it all with the command, "Thunder!"

A current of electricity shot from his extended hand towards the spirit, striking it solidly. The ghostly form seemed stunned for a moment, then slid off the pendulum and onto the ground.

Now's my chance, Eric grinned to himself, and ran forward, preparing to cast at close range. When he was but a foot away, the spirit jumped back onto the pendulum and swung forward, taking Eric completely by surprise. Without time to react, there was no chance of dodging it, and he watched in horror as the blade descended. It swept down, but before it reached him, a gunshot rang out. The chain holding the pendulum to the ceiling snapped apart cleanly, and the whole thing flew forward, still on a one-way course with the terrified Eric. Suddenly, a hand pushed the young man on his back just as the metal blade spun over his head. It swirled towards the stairs, but was stopped by the narrow threshold of the doorway infront of the staircase, and it stuck in the wall, firmly inbedded by the force of it's trip.

The ghostly man had once again fallen off the blade, and this time laid helplessly on the floor. Eric, without giving a second thought, cast another spell.

"Fire!" The flames exploded underneath the spirit, and when they dissapated, the spirit had vanished, leaving only a small whisp of smoke where it had been lying.

Eric was breathing heavily as he turned around to see his rescuer standing behind him, although he wasn't too sure if he would have rather faced the pedulum again. Standing before him was the man from earlier, and he did not look pleased.

"I thought I had told you to leave," the man said, a small touch of annoyance in his voice.

"I thought you were in trouble," Eric lied, "I thought that ghost was going to kill you."

"I have lived in this mansion for many years, young man, and have faced its many perils time and again. Do you believe that I would have sucumbbed so easily to such a simple spirit?"

"Well if you had let me stay, I could have found out more about you, and I wouldn't have made that assumption," Eric replied, becoming just as annoyed.

The man didn't answer, but stood there, silently regarding Eric. "What is your name?" he asked quietly, his voice returning to the point of absolute monotone.

"Eric Constantine," Eric replied slowly.

"Very well then, Mr. Constantine," the man said, "If you wish to remain in this house, you are to never come down here again, understand?"

Eric smiled widely as he pieced together what the man had said. "Thank you so much," Eric said gratefully, "I promise, I won't be any trouble."

"Don't thank me too quickly," the man said, lifting his right hand, "This is only for tonight, and I expect you to begon by tomorrow morning." With that, the man turned on his heel, his cape swirling dramatically, and walked towards the stairs. Eric followed closely behind, a huge grin on his face.

"So, what's your name?" Eric asked quietly, still smiling widely.

"Vincent," the man said over his shoulder.

"What? No last name?"

The man stopped at the bottom of the stairs, but did not turn around. "It would be in your best interest, Mr. Constantine, to not expect answer for every question. I would also remind you that some questions are better left unasked, especially from one who is in such a precarious place as to lose your room for the night." Without another word, Vincent started up the stairs, with Eric once again trailing quietly. As the two climbed upward in silence, Eric became aware that he couldn't hear Vincent's footsteps, despite the metal boots he was wearing. He, however, heard every step of his own shoes echoing all the way up the brick cylinder that encased the stairway. He winced slightly with every step, and imagined that Vincent was probably thinking how ridiculous he was. Brushing away that thought, he decided to try to start a conversation.

"So, you're a pretty good shot with a gun," he commented quietly. Vincent didn't turn around or respond, so he pushed a little further. "I mean, to be able to shoot a chain while its swinging like that is really good. I know how to pull a trigger and all that jazz, but I could never aim like that."

"Years of practice have allowed for such aim," Vincent answered, stopping once again, "Now, I will leave you to your own devices. All I ask is that you do not wander around the manor. Try to remain in the rooms. The hallways belong to the other denizens of this manor, as you have become acquianted with, and they do not like the living wandering within their domain."

"So, what do you recommend?" Eric asked, looking around the room the had come into, expecting another spirit to appear out of thin air.

"There is a small conservatory and library next to the room you claimed last night," Vincent replied, starting for the door. "You may remain in there, but I warn you again, do not leave that room, regardless of what you hear. I will fetch you when the time is right." He stepped through the door, and Eric watched him disappear into the dark shadows of the manor's corridors. Eric tiptoed down the hall, towards his room, trying to mimic Vincent's steps and move as silent as he did. After several seconds and several sore toes, he gave up on the notion and rushed down to the conservatory, shutting the door behind him.

Looking around at the room, the first thing he noticed was the large window over-looking a dead patch of plants at the back of the mansion.

"Must have been a garden," he said to himself as he looked at the dead patch of plants, "What a shame. Guess Vincent's not much of a gardener." He sighed as he turned his attention to a small bookshelf standing in the corner. If there was one thing Eric loved, it was reading. He had spent a lot of time in books, usually fantasy novels simply because he found nothing interesting in factual books.

Settling down in front of the shelf, he scanned the bindings, picking out interesting sounding books. A stack sitting firmly beside him, Eric plopped down on a dusty arm chair and read through them. They weren't too terribly long, so he found it easy to read through them. As it grew later in the day, Eric became aware of a sound eminating from just outside the door. He rose to his feet slowly, picking up a heavy dictionary as a weapon. He stepped slowly up to the door, and leaned his head against it, pressing his ear against the old wood. The noise came closer, a clanking sound, like a piece of heavy metal being dropped sharply on the floor with a 'clunk'. A dragging sound followed, and then another clunk, growing ever closer to the door. Eric tensed, holding the dictionary tightly in his left hand, reching slowly down towards the handle. Placing his hand on the handle, he began to turn it.

Suddenly, a gunshot erupted from behind the door, and Eric fell backwards in surprise. Three shots were fired, each one sounding like it was hitting a steel wall. After the echo of the bullets had quieted, the clunking didn't come again. Eric rose to his feet, trembling as the door nob turned. He scooped up the dictionary and dove at the door, the heavy book raised for a downward swing. The door opened quickly, Eric closed his eyes and brought the dictionary down hard. It thudded against something, but Eric couldn't tell through his eyelids. A grunt followed the thud, and Eric brought the book around for another swing. Something stopped the strike, however, and Eric tried to jerk it free, opening his eyes in frustration.

When he saw Vincent glaring at him, a red mark on the side of his normally pale face. His red eyes were staring at Eric's, annoyance and irritation pracically shooting from then like sparks, and Eric looked at the floor as he blushed.

"Hehe," he chuckled, completely embarassed, "Sorry about that."

Vincent didn't respond, but firmly removed the dictionary from Eric's hand.

"In the future, Mr. Constantine," Vincent said, his voice trembling slightly. Eric could tell, he was doing his best to maintain his quiet, unemotional tone despite his annoyance, "I would suggest that your weapon of choice would do more damage to your opponent then irritation. Otherwise, you will find yourself in a very difficult situation, such as you are now."

"That bad, huh?" Eric asked sheepishly. "Look, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to hit you with a dictionary. Still, you gotta admit that it was rather funny having the book thrown at you," Eric commented, trying to make the best out of the obviously bad situation. Vincent wasn't laughing.

"I also suggest that you do not try to cover your mistakes with comic relief. It usually causes nothing more then trouble for you. I knew of a person who made it a habit to do such a thing, and she constantly found herself in danger of being injured by her own friends for it. Therefore, I ask that you please avoid her fate and not try to be funny around me."

Vincent's eyes returned to their normal state, completely unemotional, completely unreadable. Eric sighed, relieved that Vincent hadn't thrown him out for the incident.

"At least I didn't leave the room," Eric offerred.

"Perhaps you are capable of listening," Vincent said to himself, "Your second entrance into this place had given me little hope for such a thing."

"I listen very well," Eric defended, "At least when I willing to."

"A seemingly rampant sympton for those your age," Vincent commented quietly. "If you choose to, the kitchen is located below here. I have prepared a meal for you. You may take it back to your room if you wish."

"Well, can't I eat with you?"

"I have already eaten," Vincent answered, turning back to the hall.

"Aw, come on," Eric pleaded, "I have to eat by myself a lot. Can't I enjoy company just this once? I promise to not hit you with anything."

Vincent said nothing, but just looked at his uninvited guest. Eric placed his hand behind his back and tightened his hands into fists, bracing himself for the answer. Instead, Vincent answered simply, "Your meal is downstairs. I suggest you hurry down and eat before it grows cold." Eric sighed heavily, dropping his head low and walking slowly out the door, hoping that the sad performance may have an effect on the man. But Vincent didn't react, and didn't follow, so Eric piicked up the pace and walked down the stairs. Glancingg around the darkening foyer, he saw a light on behind a closed door to his left. Walking quickly over to it, he peeked inside.

Within was a simple kitchen, large but plain, with what seemed to be only the bare necessities for making food. Eric stepped inside and saw sitting on one of the counters a bowl with steam rising from it. A slice of white bread lay beside it, and upon further examination of the bowl, Eric found that it was a stew. A few chunks of meat, some carrots and a potatoe floated around in a brown broth, with a strong smell radiating from it. Grabbing up the spoon in the bowl, Eric tasted it. It was slightly bitter, probably from the large amount of different spices he smelled, but it was better then his own cooking, so he didn't really mind. Grabbing up the piece of bread and sitting at an island counter on the otherside of the kitchen, he dabbed the bread in the broth and ate his dinner glumly. The entire situation seemed depressing all of sudden. Perhaps it was Vincent's attitude, or the house or both, but for some reason, Eric felt oppressed at the moment.

"How does it taste?" Vincent asked from the doorway. Eric jumped, almost spilling the hot meal on his lap.

"Don't do that!" Eric replied, trying to catch his breath, "What are you tryin' to do? Kill me?"

"If it get's you out of here any faster…" Vincent answered. Eric looked at him horrified.

"Please tell me that was a joke."

"If you wish for it to be," was the answer, as the man came and leaned on the edge of the counter.

"You should stop speaking so cryptically," Eric added, taking a bite of bread, "It's rude."

"So is talking while eating," Vincent answered.

Eric swallowed. "Sorry."

"Before making statements about my behavior, try to make sure you are not partaking in rude behavior yourself. One might question your upbringing for doing such a thing."

"Yeah, I guess your right," Eric replied. At least he's down here, Eric thought to himself, even if he is insulting me. "Thanks for thhe stew by the way," he added, "But you may want to avoid using a lot of spices next time."

"Pardon my inexpirience," Vincent replied, "But then, I suppose you would wish for me to dine upon what you make and then point out your culinary mistakes?"

Eric smiled slightly, once again embarrassed, "No, I guess not. I mean, there would be a ton of things you could point out about my cooking."

"I can imagine," Vincent nodded.

Eric opened his mouth to respond, but decided that it would be best to not say anything, at the risk of being subtly insulted again.

"So, if I may ask," Eric asked after swallowing some stew, "Why do you live here all by yourself?"

"You may not ask," Vincent said quickly, but then stopped and added quietly, "I see no reason to not live alone."

"Well, it may help your temprament. I mean, if I lived in this creepy place all by myself, I know I'd end up gettting depressed."

Vincent sighed, closing his eyes in annoyance. "You know that old saying, 'home is where the heart is'?" Eric nodded.

"That is not necessarily true. In fact, it is very wrong. The place where one has a home, be it a dark manor or a cave, is not what determines an attitude; those that believe such a thing are sorely mistaken. Life is what makes a heart, what gives and determines one's outlook and attitude. My life has made me the way I am, not this house. If the 'home' has any effect on those within it, it magnifies the actions and events of those who inhabit it."

"I never thought of it like that," Eric said, wiping a bit of broth off the corner of his mouth.

"Very few do," Vincent answered.

Eric looked down at the empty bowl in front of him. If what Vincent said was true, what did that mean for him?

"Well, what about me?" Eric asked, looking up again, "I don't have a home. I just kinda drift."

"Perhaps your home is the road then, a symbol of what has occurred in your life to bring you to this point."

"I guess that's true," Eric said, leaning his head on his hands. Without thinking about it, he started to chew on his nails. It was something he had done since he was little, and it had become a habit for whenever he was thinking hard.

"I couldn't help but notice," Vincent commented, breaking the silence, "That you carried yourself with expirience in battle."

"Did you just compliment me?" Eric asked, his voice carrying a sarcasticly amazed tone.

"No," Vincent replied simply. Eric decided to ignore that.

"Well, yeah, I mean, you can't travel as much as I do without fighting a couple times."

"Really?" Vincent asked, his voice sounding unconvinced.

"Yep," Eric answered confidently, "In fact, I'm a pretty good fighter, and an even better spellcaster. You should see me fight when it's not all cramped. I'm untouchable!"

Vincent snickered, though it carried no cheer. "How much would you wager on that claim?"

"I'd stake my whole collection of materia," Eric answered with a huge grin.

"Should you be so willing to lose something so precious?" Vincent asked, his eyebrows rising slightly.

"Why, I wouldn't lose, so it's not a problem."

"Very well then," Vincent nodded, "I shall take you up on that offer."

"What?" Eric asked, his confidence suddenly deflating.

"I do not usually repeat myself," Vincent answered, "But I shall in this case. I would like to take you up on that wager."

"You can't be serious?"

"I am," Vincent answered, still maintaining an unattached voice, "If I win, you will hand over all of your materia."

"What if I win?" Eric asked, suddenly caught in the moment, feeling the excitement of laying things on the line.

"I shall permit you to remain within this house as long as you wish."

"Your on then!" Eric cheered, "But don't mope when you lose!"

"Do not worry," Vincent said, "In fact, I shall be celebrating your immediate removal from this house. Now, I suggest that you get some rest. I would hate for the contest to be unfair because you did not find enough sleep."

"But it's only five," Eric answered, looking a small clock on the wall.

"That clock has stopped," Vincent answered, "And if you wish to avoid a forceable removal from this house, I suggest you find your way into your room immediately."

Eric understood the threat, so he quickly rose, rinsed out the bowl he had eaten from and rushed up the stairs. As he closed his door behind him, and was certain Vincent wasn't listening, he fell face forward on the bed.

"What have I just gotten myself into?" he grumbled into the pillow.

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Well, that was the first chapter, re-done! How do you like it? I'll admit with pride that all of my ideas and inspiration for this story come from a good friend(even if we haven't met) and an excellent author, Grace Dragondale! Thank you so much, and if you're reading this, you may notice that my Vincent is like your's. I hope that's okay, because I loved your representation of him so much, that I tried it myself, and found it enjoyable stretching my ability to be clever! Thanks!


	2. Chapter 4

"V—Vincent!" Eric asked, practically drowning in panic, "What was that!" The earth shaking started again, and a huge roar erupted from the mountains behind them. Vincent didn't say anything, but continued to look in the direction of the sound. Eric turned his eyes in the same direction, and saw a huge tongue of flame shoot up into the darkening sky.

"What is that?" he asked again, his voice a terrified whisper.

"A red dragon…." Vincent replied, his voice having only the smallest amount of fear in it.

"A dragon?"

Vincent didn't answer, but instead turned and started to walk back down the path. "Stay close and move fast," he ordered, and Eric did not have to be told twice.

"Vincent? What are we going to do!" Eric asked, following as closely as he could to the man.

"You are going to calm yourself," Vincent hissed, not stopping or even slowing down. "And will not speak," he continued, "If you must, do it in a whisper."

"But-" Eric started again, but stopped when he realized he was still talking loudly. He started again, this time whispering. "But, what about the dragon, what if he finds us?" Suddenly, another roar came from behind them, this time closer, and the two twisted their heads around. When no flames leapt up this time, Vincent looked down at Eric, and for the first time since he had met him, Eric saw a look of slight fear and anger mixed together in the man's eyes. "If the dragon finds us, heaven forbid, we shall have to defend ourselves. Until then, we shall remain silent, keeping your ears and eyes open for any signs of the beast, understand?"

Eric said nothing, but nodded his head quickly, his fear evident on his face. He had never seen a dragon before, let alone fought one, and now, he was in the middle of the mountains, being chased by one. How Vincent expected him to remain calm was beyond him, but he decided to give it a shot. It was better then panicking, anyway.

The two continued on in silence, and came to a ravine. The grey stone path they were on wrapped around the mountain and led onward towards the other side. The path itself was narrow, just enough for them to walk sideways along, and below, the ravine opened like the maw of some gigantic beast, with nothing but darkness below. Vincent started along the edge, and Eric watched him move gracefully along the edge, and found himself both envious and fearful. What if he couldn't get across as well as Vincent?

"There is no time for hesitation," Vincent said as he looked over at Eric, "You must make your decision now…..stay or go."

Eric nodded, and then gulped hard. Sweat beading on his head, he placed his back as flat against the cold stone as possible, and then took his first step onto the walkway. He looked up to Vincent, fear in his eyes, his stomach flipping so much that Eric was afraid he may heave right then and there.

"Do not focus on what is below you," Vincent instructed, "It is there, yes, but there are other things to focus on. Look only at me, not at your feet and not on the chasm….only on me."

Eric tried to squeak out a yes, but it didn't come, so he looked straight at Vincent. He took a step, but found himself looking back down at his feet again.

"Look at me!" Vincent shouted. Eric jerked his eyes back up and looked at Vincent again. He took a step, and found that it wasn't as hard as he thought it would be. His eyes never left Vincent's as he came around the path. He sighed with a certain amount of pride as he came to the end.

A screech wiped away the pride at that moment, and startled him. He came forward off the wall and started to fall forward, just as a huge, crimson shadow passed below in the chasm. Eric, his arms flailing for something to grab onto, started to fall forward. His footing slipped and he fell forward towards the inky blackness below.

Suddenly, he felt something grab onto the back of his collar. Eric looked up, still completely breathless from seeing his entire life pass before his eyes, and saw Vincent, his right hand gripping Eric's shirt tightly, his clawed hand digging deeply into the stone wall. For a moment, it seemed as if time had stopped, for Eric was too paralyzed with fear to think or feel anything else. He probably would have hung there for a while if Vincent hadn't grunted.

"You do not honestly think I am going to hold on forever, do you? If you wish to, I can let go…"

"Oh, sorry," Eric called up, brought out of his daze. "But, how do you think I should get back up?"

"Use your imagination," Vincent replied, and Eric could tell he was getting annoyed. Suddenly, the dragon roared again, and Eric saw in the distance, what seemed to be a blot in the setting sun. After a moment, it got larger and larger, and Eric came to the horrible realization that it was the dragon. The beast was coming straight at him, its huge jaws open, its sharp fangs glimmering in the sun.

"Vincent!" Eric screamed as the monster came but a few yards away. Smoke hissed from the beast's nostrils, and Eric closed his eyes, not wanting to see his end.

When he did, he felt himself being lifted, and Vincent growling as he pulled him up. Eric flew through the air, sailed onto the rough stone area connected to the ravine path, and rolled across for a moment before stopping. He looked up to see Vincent standing over him, his normally cool eyes blazing. In an instant, the fires died, and Vincent's visage returned to its normally unreadable calm.

"Th-thank you," Eric stammered as he rose to his feet. Vincent didn't say anything, but simply turned away. Eric thought he saw the man trembling slightly, but decided that it was simply his eyes playing tricks. After all, he did just survive a near-death experience.

"We must hurry forward," Vincent said as he headed towards the path that continued onward. The area they were in looked like it had been a cave at one point, with high walls that started to curve overhead; the only thing missing was the ceiling and the walls, and by how high and wide the whole thing was, Eric could guess that it had been a large crevice indeed. He hurried to catch up with Vincent, though, his fear of the dragon much greater then his curiosity for geological formations.

"Vincent, wait for me," he called as he ran to catch up. As he approached, Vincent motioned for silence, and Eric obeyed. The sound of a small pebble clicking down the side of the wall was the only sound Eric heard, but before he even processed what the sound was, Vincent grabbed his shoulder and pulled him backwards.

Right before his eyes, Eric watched a cascade of boulders come rumbling down the side of the mountain. Huge boulders rained down onto the path they had been standing on just a moment ago, and as the dust and rumbling ended, Eric saw that the entire path had been blocked by the debris.

"What…was…that?" Eric asked, completely stunned by the avalanche.

"Company," was all Vincent said before a huge slamming sound came from behind them. The two jerked around to see the dragon standing before them, its huge red eyes smoldering with hunger and rage.

Eric looked at the monster, his mind and eyes almost entranced by its appearance. Its scales shimmered in the darkening light like thousands of rubies, catching and reflecting the light in a beautiful, almost intoxicating way. The only thing that reminded Eric that the thing before him was intent on devouring him was a the roar that it unleashed.

"Eric!" Vincent called, and Eric came to his senses just in time to see the beast inhale deeply. The force of the wind pulled Eric towards the beast's maw, and Eric looked to Vincent for help. Just as suddenly, the wind stopped, and the dragon released a huge plume of fire, the heat sucking away Eric's breath as he leapt to the left and Vincent to the right. The dragon whipped its head around, searching for the younger, less threatening target.

Eric saw the dragon turn its burning eyes on him, and a burst of sparks spouted from its nose, falling and bowing through the air. Eric managed to avoid some, but as many as he dodged, he got burned by just as many. The dragon growled, though it sounded more like a chuckle, and for a moment of either stupidity or pure courage, Eric glared at the beast. This was, though, not the most intelligent thing for him to do.

The dragon curved its body around, forming a semi-circle around the trapped Eric. His back to the wall, there was nowhere for Eric to run; he was trapped. A slight wimper escape his lips as he hoped that it didn't hurt too bad when the dragon chewed on him, and that he would be dead quickly. Still, he wouldn't go down without a fight, so he threw a Blizzard spell. It struck the dragon's side, hissing when it touched the burning scales. The dragon did not even flinch, and Eric knew that his time was up. As the great creature's maw inched closer, Eric nearly swooned.

Suddenly, Vincent appeared on the dragon's neck, holding tightly onto its horns for support. The man's eyes burned almost as brightly as the dragon's, as he aimed his rifle expertly in between the monster's eyes. The sudden jerk of the dragon's head when it realized it had a passenger knocked of Vincent's aim however, and he ended up only shooting the dragon's upper jaw. It shook its head violently and Eric saw that it was all Vincent could do to hang on.

Moving quickly, Eric cast another Blizzard spell. This one was slightly larger then the last, and certainly took more energy, but he didn't want to waste the opportunity. Unfortunately, it reaped the same effect as the last spell, with it turning into a mist the moment it touched the ruby scales. Eric actually growled in frustration at the ineffective spell, but didn't get too much time to think on it.

The dragon lowered its head with a jerk, flipping Vincent forward. The gunman rolled swiftly toward the stone wall, but rose to his feet and skidded the last few inches expertly. Taking aim once again, Vincent released a flurry of shots all over the dragon, each bullet shattering its scales and burying deep in the creature's flesh. Eric stood amazed as he watched Vincent's entire visage and movements, each deliberate and thought out. He could see that the man was aiming with eagle-eye preciseness, and felt somewhat envious of his abilities.

The dragon was obviously growing irritated, and started to inhale for another blast. Vincent and Eric prepared for another dive, but instead were both met with a surprise. Instead of searing flames, the dragon released a huge billow of foul smelling, black smoke. It rolled forward and caught Eric and Vincent in its choking embrace. Eric fell to the ground, gagging on the ash and smog that clouded his eyes and burned his lungs. He thought he heard similar sounds coming from Vincent's direction, and thought to crawl over to him. Keeping his head down, but still choking profusely on the air, he made his way over to the gunman. A sudden thud and grunt cause him to open his eyes, despite the ash that brought tears to them. Vincent's own coughs were suddenly silent, and Eric felt a terrible sickness in his stomach. Where was Vincent? What happened to him? Eric wanted nothing more then to rush to him, but the cloud of smoke, along with the threat of the dragon made him too scared to move. Vincent would have told me to stay put, he thought to himself as he tried to crawl blindly out of the cloud. Suddenly, and just ahead of him, Eric heard another grunt, this one louder. It was followed by a clicking sound, like something metal falling on stone. He struggled to where he had heard the sound, and as he felt around the ground with his hands, they encountered something cold and metallic. Trying his best to stay calm, he brushed his fingers along the metal and found it was the barrel of a gun.

Suddenly, the smoke disappeared, blown away by a strong wind. The force of the wind knocked him backwards, and he coughed one last time as the remainder of the smoke cleared his lungs. He picked up Vincent's gun, a long pistol, almost as long as a rifle, and looked for the man. His eyes met a horrifying sight.

Before him was the dragon, a wicked, triumphant sneer evident in its eyes. It was looking at Vincent, who, to Eric's shock, was ensnared by the dragon's tail. It had bound the man completely, so that Eric could only really see Vincent's head and shoulders. He watched as the dragon tightened its hold, and Vincent cried out in pain. A cracking noise made Eric's stomach turn as he realized that the beast was crushing Vincent's bones.

"Stop it!" Eric shouted as he lifted up Vincent's gun. He couldn't aim properly because his eyes were tearing up with both rage and the ash that still lingered in them. He simply tried to hit some part of the dragon. The gun fired, and he heard the dragon growl.

Eric's eyes cleared up just in time to see the dragon's claw swinging towards him. It struck him full-on, and the dragon pinned him against the stone wall like a butterfly on a board. He struggled to break free, but was too tired to go on. Everything was hopeless. He and Vincent were going to die, and it was entirely his fault.

He was the one who invaded the mansion, he was the one who had brought them out into the mountains, and he was the one who slowed down Vincent's escape.

Everything was his fault.

Using the last bit of his strength, he reached out to the materia on his belt, trying to use one…it didn't matter which. When he tried, nothing happened, his energy too depleted, and he thrashed about, not a hope to escape, but out of simple frustration.

"I'm so sorry Vincent!" he cried out before he turned to the dragon. "I hope you…choke…" he sobbed. Mustering the last bit of anger, frustration and remorse he had left he screamed out, "Forgive me, Vincent!"

Suddenly, a horrible pain in his head took him. It spread quickly throughout his entire body, and soon, he was thrashing around in agony. Something was screaming in his head words he couldn't understand, and on his belt a materia began to glow. A wave shot out from his body, blasting the dragon backward and freeing both himself and Vincent from the terrible monster's grasp. Eric was able to see Vincent fall to the ground, coughing for breath, and then another wave of pain came over him.

Just as suddenly as this pain started, it stopped, and was replaced with a cool, icy feeling. A woman then appeared before him, stepping out of tin air. She was beautiful, with piercing sapphire eyes and lustrous, robin-egg colored hair. Her skin was the color of the sky, and her very aura radiated wisdom and timeless beauty. Eric felt absolutely in awe of the woman, and suddenly felt the impulse to kneel before her as if she were a queen. He glanced over to Vincent, to see if the man was seeing what he was seeing, but Vincent was lying on the ground, his eyes closed. The dragon stood a foot or two back, but seemed to be frozen in time, a horrible roar on the verge of escaping its mouth.

"Do not be afraid," the woman said quietly, comfortingly. Her voice sounded like snow falling, and it carried the tone of a mother. "Time has merely slowed for you. Do not be afraid."

"But I-" Eric started, but stopped when the woman raised a finger to her lips, a gesture meaning for him to be silent.

"I have but a moment," she said quickly, "But do not worry for yourself or Vincent. I promise that you both shall make it back to Nibelheim safely." With that, the woman lifted her hand, and blew gently across her palm. A flurry of snowflakes blew towards Eric from the woman's hand and swirled around him. As they did, the woman disappeared, leaving the scene exactly as when she had arrived.

Eric watched her vanish, and suddenly became aware he was different. He couldn't tell what at first, only that he had changed. It wasn't until something very cold draped itself over his shoulders. He glanced over and watched a pair of wings, blue and crystal clear, unfurl to his left and right from off his back. For some reason, it didn't seem in the least bit strange. He looked at his hands and watched them take on a blue color that matched the woman's. His hair swirled around his head in the frigid air that surrounded him, and he caught glimpses of icy blue strands instead of his usual black. The entire transformation complete, he looked at the dragon with cold, blue eyes. The beast seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then charged forward. Eric flew upward with a simple thought, missing the dragon's charge. Smiling coldly, he fired a series of crystalline orbs, each one striking the beast's scaly spine. The dragon whipped its head around and launched a blast of flame, but Eric's winged curved around him, blocking the attack. His wings melted away as the attack ended, but reappeared just as quickly, growing from his back like frost spreading across glass. Landing safely on the ground, Eric spread out his wings, and they shattered into tiny shards. Pointing his hand forward, the shards reacted to this silent command and flew towards the dragon. It tried to move its huge frame, but was not quick enough, and its body was pierced by the hundreds of tiny ice needles.

His wings reforming once again, Eric waved his hand lightly in the air. A small cloud of snow flakes danced around his fingers, and he spun around on his toes, almost in a dance-like movement, which ended with him on his knees, and his finger once again pointed at the dragon. A blizzard seemed to appear out of nowhere from behind him, and as it blew across the area, it covered everything in a frost, from the rocks and boulders to the dragon and even Vincent. This caused the man to stir and look up, and Eric sighed with relief when he saw Vincent's red eyes again. They had a look of surprise in them, but seemed to be strangely curious. This pleased Eric, for he had finally managed to find a good, or at least not frustrated, look in Vincent's eyes.

Turning his attention back to the dragon, who was now actually shivering from the cold, Eric charged two orbs of freezing energy in his hands. They grew larger for a moment, then flew off on their own accord and struck the dragon. Thick sheets of ice crawled upwards on the dragon's skin, and with one final cry of pain, it became completely encased. Walking impassively over to monster, Eric blew lightly on the huge block, and sent it over the edge of the cliff, into the darkness below.

For a moment, there was silence, then a satisfying crash echoed from below, and Eric smiled grimly at the sound. Turning back to Vincent, he grinned somewhat sheepishly as he walked towards his friend. But even as he walked, he felt his energy start to seep out of him, and the pleasant cold feeling disappeared. In its stead, he only felt a weakness overcoming him, and darkness began to cloud his vision. He stumbled a few more steps before collapsing next to Vincent. With one final sigh, he felt the last bit of cold energy leave him and the darkness conquer his vision.

----------------------------------------

Eric groaned slightly as he opened his eyes. He was lying in bed, the one he had slept in the night before. The room was dark, apart from the light given off by the fire burning brightly in the fireplace. As he sat up, his head was suddenly assaulted by a huge headache. It made him dizzy, and he ended up putting his head back down on the pillow. Groaning as he rubbed his temples, he tried to look around without lifting his head from its place on the pillow.

"Good evening," he heard Vincent say from just beyond his peripheral vision. Slowly turning his head towards Vincent, Eric winced as the pain pounded in his head again.

"What happened…?" Eric asked, trying his best to prop himself up again. He managed to see Vincent leaning calmly against the window, looking through the glass. "What time is it?"

"It is 12:03 in the morning," Vincent replied without looking away from the window. "You have been unconscious for several hours."

"I kinda wish I still was," Eric grunted, holding his head. "I feel like I've got the world's biggest ice cream headache."

"Not surprising," Vincent answered, finally turning his gaze towards Eric. In the dim light, the man's eyes seemed to glow slightly, and it made Eric slightly unnerved. His head started to pound again, for which he was slightly glad….it gave him a reason to look away. "When you fell, your skin felt as cold as death," Vincent added as he approached, his shoes making only the slightest sound as he walked.

"So, how am I back here? I mean, it's obvious you brought me here, but I thought that you had been injured?"

"Nothing a simple spell could not fix. There will be a few scars, but nothing I haven't experienced before."

Eric just nodded, his mind not really even trying to process what the man was saying. "Give it to me straight, doc," Eric said somewhat jokingly, "Am I gonna pull through?" He knew that jokes were wasted on Vincent, but he just felt the need to throw it in there anyway.

"While I am no doctor," Vincent said, apparently ignoring Eric's comment, "You will be fine. A few bruises from where the dragon had pinned you down, but besides that, you will live to fight another day…"

"After that, I'd rather not fight again," Eric sighed.

"But you will. That is a simple fact you must learn, and the sooner you realize it, the better."

"But, why? What's the point anyway," Eric asked, becoming slightly frustrated, "I mean, we all die eventually, right?"

"While you are right in saying that people die, you are wrong in saying that it happens eventually…."

"What do you mean?" Eric asked, thoroughly confused.

"Now is not the time," Vincent answered coldly, "Now, I want to know what happened up on the mountain."

Eric grimaced when Vincent pushed aside his answer, but he felt too weary to say anything.

"I can't really say…" Eric mumbled, "It was like..like a dream. Like I wasn't even there, but could still see everything going on. How did it look to you?"

Vincent didn't answer right away, his eyes closed in thought. He sat silently, and the only sound in the room for a few seconds was the crackling sound of the fire. Eric propped himself up against the wall, now thoroughly intrigued. As unnerving as the whole situation was, how unfamiliar and strange, Eric was fascinated somehow….and of course had many questions about it as well. Finally, Vincent opened his eyes, and after a slight sigh, began to describe what he had seen.

"At first, I'll admit I was in a slight daze. The dragon's attack had left me in a slight state of shock, but I managed to regain my senses long enough to see you. After the initial shockwave you released, you fell back against the wall, your eyes empty, lifeless almost. I was unsure of what was happening, and thought that perhaps you were in a state of shock yourself. But then, snow fell around you, and you alone. A moment later, your skin changed color, as well as your hair, and eyes, and finally you had a set of wings on you back…..That was all I saw before I had succumbed to unconsciousness."

Eric noticed that Vincent had a hard time saying that last part, and realized that the whole thing must have been slightly embarrassing for the man, for Vincent didn't seem like the type to be taken by surprise.

"What happened?" Vincent asked quietly, "I want you to explain everything in detail."

Eric wanted to, but he wasn't sure he could. Things seemed so strange now, that if he tried to explain it, he would have felt like he was telling a fairy tale. Still, he remember some of it, and so he tried his best. He told Vincent about the woman, what she had said; everything that he could recall he told Vincent and described it as best he could.

"Which brings me to here," Eric finished. He couldn't express the confusion that was welling up inside of him, the confusion that had started building since he began re-telling his story.

Vincent didn't speak after Eric had finished, but instead looked into the fire, a look of deep thought etched upon his pale face. The two sat in silence once again, and this time, Eric started to fidget from the uncomfortable feeling that had fallen over him. Finally, he could hold the silence no longer, and turned to the man standing above him.

"Vincent….I'm sorry," he started. When Vincent didn't respond, Eric decided that he should explain. "See, I didn't mean to put you in danger….I didn't want to cause so much trouble. I should have….I should have just left when you told me too-"

"Indeed, you should have," Vincent suddenly interrupted, "And yet, you did not. Once again, Mr. Constantine, you remind me of a young acquaintance of mine. She also had trouble following directions….."

"I am sorry I almost got you killed-"

"That is one fault I shall not have placed upon your shoulders," Vincent said suddenly, surprising Eric by the sudden tone of his voice. It seemed slightly rushed, as if Vincent wanted to cut off the thought. "The dragon, and the threat to my personal well-being, was entirely my own fault. It seems that I have grown careless in these two years since I have been out in the world….."

Two years…

Eric wanted to ask what he meant, but certainly Vincent, seeming to already be a bit more melancholy then usual, probably didn't feel like having the subject pushed any farther.

"Even so," Eric continued, "I think that…that it would be best if I left as soon as possible."

"If I may be so bold," Vincent replied, "That is surprisingly mature of you. What has brought you to making such a decision?"

"Don't act all serious like that, Vincent," Eric chuckled, "You know you're just glad to get rid of me."

Vincent didn't say anything for a moment, but looked at Eric with his serious eyes, almost a small glare in them. "When do you plan on leaving?" he asked, without blinking or looking away.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" Eric asked, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable again.

"I only wish to see in your eyes whether you are lying or not. I would hate to begin any celebrations if you are going to return in the middle of them…"

Eric, still feeling slightly awkward, simply nodded and said, "Tomorrow morning."

"Very well," Vincent replied, finally looking away and standing up. "I suggest you get some rest…your experience has left you quite tired….I can still see it in your eyes."

"Alright," Eric nodded, as he watched the man walk out the door. "Good night," he called after Vincent, but the man didn't respond with anything other than closing the door.

After Vincent had left, Eric became aware of the sleepiness that was creeping over him, and so he laid his head back down on the pillow and let sleep take him.

The next morning, Eric awoke to find that the sun was just peeking over the mountains of Nibelheim through his window. He stretched and yawned, the looked out the window again, mumbling to himself, "Vincent's early bird syndrome must be rubbing off on me…" before he resist the urge to go back to sleep and climbed out of bed.

He grabbed a red shirt and his black pants out of his bag, and threw them on before heading downstairs. Hoping no other creatures were lurking about, Eric stepped towards the front door when he thought he heard a sound in the kitchen. Something in his head said to not go towards it, that it was probably some other spirit, but his curiosity was greater. Besides, he told himself, I'll just take a peek. If it's a monster, then I'll just leave it alone.

He opened the door slowly and looked through the small crack. Nothing appeared to be stirring in the small kitchen, so he pushed the door further in and stepped inside. Glancing around quickly, he noticed a small stack of fresh fruit on the counter, with a small, white package next to it. He walked quietly over to the fruit and looked at the white bundle. It was small, about as long and wide as his hand, maybe a little longer. The white wrapping was paper, and it was tied with string. On the paper was the name, "Mr. Constantine" written in a beautiful, flowing script. He undid the string and paper, and found that it had been wrapping a small, black glasses case. The other side of the paper bore a note, written in the same handwriting as the front. Eric read over it slowly, and realized that it was from Vincent, though there hadn't been much doubt who it was from.

To Mr. Constantine:

I am writing this letter as a way of saying my farewell. I wish you good fortune upon your travels, and hope that perhaps, someday, you shall reach the end of your road. To help you along the way, I have left you this food, as a token of thanks for aiding me in my time of need. It should be sufficient for a day or so. I have also placed a small amount of gil beneath the fruit, which you may use as you see fit. Finally, the glasses case to which this letter was attached contains something of value I am sure you shall find most interesting. I only ask that, in return, you do not seek me out to say farewell yourself, nor should you open the case until you have left Nibelheim. These are the only requests that I leave you with, and I hope, though somehow doubt, you shall follow them.

Once again, I hope that fortune will smile upon your trip, and that you come safely to wherever you may set your mind on going.

Your Unwilling Patron,

Vincent Valentine.

Eric sighed as he folded up the letter. "How sterile," he said quietly, glancing around the kitchen, half expecting Vincent to appear. When he didn't, Eric sighed again and put the fruit carefully into his bag, but decided to put the note and case into his pocket. Under the fruit, he found a small bag, and within it was, from what Eric could tell, was about four thousand Gil. Eric was astounded by the amount, because he had never seen that much before, and only wished that Vincent was around for him to thank him, but the man never made his presence known if he was around.

As Eric walked quietly out the mansion, he stopped only once as he opened the door to look back into the dimly light front hall.

"Thanks, Vincent…" he said quietly as he stepped outside and closed the door.

Walking quietly through the streets of Nibelheim, Eric felt a heavy pull on his heart. Vincent was, although he wouldn't agree, Eric's first companion in quite some time. He had always been nervous about making friends, but decided that if Vincent was willing to risk his own life to save Eric's, then he was trustworthy enough. The moment he stepped out of Nibelheim, he pulled the glasses case out of his pocket and clicked it open. What he saw caused him to gasp slightly.

Sitting in the soft, black lining of the case was a single, crystalline, blue feather, catching and reflecting the rays of the early morning light.


End file.
